


Hurt Took the Rest of Us

by SaruBaka (IfWallsCouldMuke)



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: (???), (A Lot of Them), (I have no idea I can shove into 'canon divergence'), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gay Sex, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Plot Twists, Reunion Sex, The Author Regrets Nothing, Unrequited Love, not really - Freeform, that's more like it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 19:33:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18611074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IfWallsCouldMuke/pseuds/SaruBaka
Summary: “Phase One complete,” the Strain whispers.He hears a faint voice, a voice his heart knows, calling out his name before his eyes close.or;I accidentally put a spoiler as the summary before this minor edit so FUCK no wonder I was getting less hits than expected.





	Hurt Took the Rest of Us

**Author's Note:**

> For the purpose of my own little vastly-off-the-road _canon divergence_ , I couldn't have Anna in this, even though she's a cute little angel I took a liking of in the anime. She's defo in my next next K verse oneshot, AU or not. A few things were added as headcanons, but apart from those, I hope people like the concept?
> 
>  
> 
> ~~I will take full consequences of wanting to indulge myself with this swap thing~~

“Misaki,” Saruhiko scratches at his burnt HOMRA tattoo as he stands on top of a building near his ex-friend’s condo. “When will you ever learn…”

He takes two of his knives out, each embedded with different-coloured aura.

With the powers from his auras, he manages to hit his target, his knives digging into the extra-strengthened glass of the window.

 _Or maybe it’s I who needs to learn_.

 

///

 

“Fushimi-kun,” Munakata looks as bored as always, flickers of amusement taunting Saruhiko. “It’s a little early for me to have people filing in reports.”

“I heard about increasing scuffles between HOMRA and Strains,” Saruhiko fiddles with the knife hilts close to his pockets. “While we have no business as long as the Strains keep to themselves, I’m concerned about this.”

“Oya?” Munakata throws him a small object, which he catches effortlessly. “You _are_ smarter than I expected, and that’s a compliment, before you start—what’s the phrasing?— _bitching_ at me.”

“You wanted me to confront you about someone, someone who holds grudges against us, giving these Strains instructions,” Saruhiko opens his fist to find a small recording device.

“HOMRA will find out if we bug them,” Munakata tilts his head. “But there’s a certain fiery-vanguard who might help you, is there not?”

 

“Some guts you got, monkey,” Misaki appears at the park in less than five minutes of him sending a message. “Why are you so sure I’ll agree?”

“Because,” he wraps an arm around Misaki’s waist, other snaking up to cup his face. “Despite our past, despite how we feel for each other right now… we need each other.”

“This is for HOMRA’s future,” Misaki doesn’t meet his gaze. “You owe me.”

Saruhiko opens his mouth to make a snarky comment, but he feels the familiar explosive, irrefutable heat of Misaki’s lips and enjoys the moment.

 

Some time after the stolen kisses at the park, he sends a message to the Captain explaining the device has been transferred, and he gets dismissed. Curious, he gets changed into casual clothes and starts walking around HOMRA territory.

 _Bingo_.

“I hear the vanguard is a twink,” one of the Strains stage-whispers, like they’re sharing a joke. “I think he’s going to be an eager one, don’t you agree?”

“We gotta focus on Phase One, idiot,” the second Strain stubs his cigarette. “We’re almost done with Phase One, so be a little patient.”

Saruhiko takes pleasure from the surprised squeal the two Strains lets out when his knives delve deep into their hearts, radiating with icy flames.

“Now,” he isn’t sure which aura would be encasing him, but he knows the Strains aren’t stupid. “It’s one thing to listen to a lost King, but talking about raping _my_ Misaki? Honestly, I don’t give two shits about your intentions with the King, but threatening who’s mine…”

Two bodies topple to the ground when Saruhiko snaps his fingers, the icy flame now dissipating.

“I hate it when people hurt _my_ Misaki…”

 

Saruhiko knows Munakata will be pissed that he killed the Strains without any questioning, but by the way they were talking, he deduced there’re at least a dozen more doing at this King’s bidding. He was bluffing, of course, when he mentioned a King, and he was a bit impatient with killing them…

 _Only a King would be interested in recruiting Strains,_ Saruhiko catches a flurry of movement.

“What a coincidence,” Saruhiko poises a knife against the Strain’s neck. “I just had a little talk with your friends.”

“Why is Scepter 4 involved?” the Strain doesn’t seem intimidated by the knife. “I thought you’d take advantage of the fact that HOMRA is on a rampage, Fushimi.”

“Ah,” he draws a red line with his knife. “I already killed two of your friends, and I can’t go around killing random Strains, you see. I can’t draw emergency blade all the time, but I don’t want to waste my knives on you.”

“Phase One complete,” the Strain whispers.

He hears a faint voice, a voice his heart knows, calling out his name before his eyes close.

 

///

 

“Damn,” Saruhiko wakes up in a room, thankfully clean and not reeking of anything. “A normal room?”

“That’s what you think.”

The voice is tuned, a common method person would use to hide their identity. “Tell me, Fushimi Saruhiko… what does Yata Misaki, aka Yatagarasu, mean to you? You two used to be awfully close years ago, hm?”

“I know you’re either the Strain acting at this lost King’s second-in-command or the King themself,” Saruhiko finds it odd he isn’t bound, so he decides to stall. “A faceless nobody thinks they can kill Scepter 4’s task master? I think that’s your stupidest mistake.”

“No,” the coldness seeps into his bones. “It is _because_ your skills exceed most Kings’ expectations I chose you.”

“What are you planning? Saruhiko stares into the surveillance camera. “Why do you need _me_ above all people to accomplish your scheme?”

“The scuffles with HOMRA was a distraction we needed to lure you out,” his captor explains, as if this is a valuable piece of information. “Whether they like it or not, Scepter 4 would intercede and force us into submission. You and the Blue King came up with an idea to make _us_ unfold our own plans. It worked, I suppose, since you’re in that room for indefinite amount of time. You’ll hear whatever it is my comrades speak about as they roam my villa.”

“Ah,” Saruhiko drops his head, humiliation pooling in his guts. “I’m not your goal, am I? I’m just the bait.”

“You didn’t tell me who Yata is to you,” the captor laughs. “But I know the truth. _I always do.”_

 

///

 

It’s been three days since his capture, and he wonders how often his captor and their minions check the monitor. He supposes it’s hard to have someone check in 24/7, which means he has one chance at escaping.

 _I had six knives when I went to meet Misaki that day_ , Saruhiko recalls _. Or at least, six in the most obvious places. Places I can hide even when I’m not wearing any outerwear._ He feigns massaging his torso and pelvic area and grins when he feels the hilts of his secretive knives. _Of course the bastards are too stupid and cocky to undress me fully, eh? These knives are variations of a ninja-star. There are tiny handles so I don’t accidentally cut myself._

“Is it lunch time already?” Saruhiko clicks his tongue. “Yesterday, there were vegetables and I was not a huge fan of it.”

“Your hatred for vegetables truly amuses me,” the Strain who poisoned him seems to be on watch duty. His name is Akio, and while he isn’t sure if that’s a code name, the Strain is far less creepy and evasive as the captor. “There was a breach in the security. We aren’t sure if it’s HOMRA or your babysitters.”

“Either way, Misaki will come here to kill me,” Saruhiko assures Akio. “I don’t know if you’re in the mood but…”

Saruhiko blows a sarcastic kiss at the surveillance camera before imbuing both red and blue auras into one of his modified ninja-star, successfully exploding it.

He throws the last one in the direction of the barricaded window, hoping someone from HOMRA will discover it.

“It was fun,” Saruhiko throws a spare coin he found on the desk the other day at the lens of the camera.

 _Now_ , he tries to think over the screeching sirens. _It’s either my captor deigns to show me their face or Misaki finds me._

 

He should have expected the size of the villa. It took thirty minutes for him to locate the staircase to the fourth floor, and he’s still searching for the third floor’s. He already had to punch a few brainless Strains unconscious.

 _When I find my knives_ , he sweeps the Strain’s legs, then kicks her away from him _. Four of them are yours_ , Green King _._

He doesn’t know why he thinks it’s the Green King’s doing. They’ve been unheard from since the last one died. He knows better than to think the Grey King will be reinstated, not after the disaster so long ago. The Gold King is somehow still alive, and the Silver King is rumoured to be immortal…

“ _No_ ,” Saruhiko falls to his knees, not able to believe what he’s seeing.

He found the staircase.

And Misaki is hanging over it.

With someone wearing a cloak the only thing keeping him from falling.

“I told you, Fushimi…” the cloak is green, and the aura coming from the attacker…

“Saru, no!” Misaki, helpless without his weapon of choice, his bat or his skateboard, tries to untangle the Green King’s fingers, but the dread already claimed them both.

“I may have lied,” the hood comes off, and the revealed face shows no mercy. “I mean, that’s expected of me, is it not? I, Hisui Nagare, the Fifth King, the Green King… I despise the life you live, Fushimi Saruhiko.”

“I never met you before,” he speaks to the Green King, but he glances at Misaki, who gives him a tiny nod.

“No, I suppose not,” the Green King cackles. “I hate you for taking things for granted. You’re the bait _and my endgame_ , Fushimi.”

 _Do you trust me?_ was the message he tried to send to Misaki earlier.

“I’m taking away the one thing you took for granted.”

Hisui straightens his fingers, and Misaki falls.

 

///

 

“That was too easy,” the Green King scowls. “You hear that?” Saruhiko only arches a brow, indicating indifference. “There was no echo.”

“Colour me stupid,” he hears the faintest footsteps walking towards the right corner of the staircase. “I don’t speak evil manipulator.”

“Oya?” Hisui taps at his heart, revealing a glowing crystal-like aura swirling with energy. “You can thank the Slates for this mishap. My father… showed me a vision.”

“Are you done bitching?” Saruhiko adjusts his glasses, and before the Green King can rebuke, he catches the bundle of knives thrown in his direction with a flourish. “Let me tell you one thing, _your Highness_ … I may have only one friend, but he knows what loyalty is.”

The first knife, glowing with the icy blue aura delves deep into Hisui’s left shoulder, not so far from his central nervous system. The second was already glowing hot with Misaki’s aura, and he adds his own to sink it an inch below his ‘heart’.

“Now, now,” Saruhiko holds his knives between his fingers, two between his teeth. “I’m not on a mission to kill anyone, and I think your second-in-command _, not your father, anyways_ , has a vague interest in Misaki and me.”

“Fool…”

“You failed to kill _my_ Misaki, and that’s even worse than succeeding in your plan,” Saruhiko kindly points out.

“How is my ability to stay alive a bad thing?” a gruff voice complains, his fiery aura tangible.

“Idiot,” Saruhiko clicks his tongue. “I think Hisui here wants to warn us.”

“Don’t you find it odd my father was able to bring me back to life, essentially?” the Green King displays no emotion. “Or, to be precise, he was able to give me this body a chance to reach its full potential after my Green Sword of Damocles extended my life?”

“What are you on, Hisui…”

“The Sword is directly connected to a King’s aura… his life force,” Misaki, for once, says something smart. “Which can only mean that asshole’s father was either a King himself or…”

“… or too old and tired for young folks’ to keep messing things up and be the one to clean in,” fog starts to seep into the fourth floor foyer.

 _Fog_ … Saruhiko’s mind goes blank from realisation. _I read about this on a file…_

“I applaud you for managing to use your red aura to cushion your fall, Yatagarasu,” the old man, no older than fifty, claps sarcastically. “Yukari-kun hates it when his toys get disposed of too easily.”

“Who ya—”

 _Snap_. “ _His_ toy? All he did was watch me pace in the room, curse everything in existence, and yet… he dares claim _my_ Misaki?”

“Saru, we talked about—”

 _Ba-thump_.

It’s the different kind of heartbeat rate he’s used to. Yes, he felt his heart racing like this in the middle of a combat or chasing after a Strain, but this… it’s like he’s in shock.

“Interesting…” both the old fog bastard and the Green Twink comment, looking at Saruhiko. “Isn’t it rare for people to wield two auras?” the former adds on.

“Yukari-chan was the only one I knew of being capable… so far,” the Green King snickers. “But I don’t think I saw his auras being exerted in this manner.”

“I can hear you bitches,” Saruhiko doesn’t care if he doesn’t sound bored or collected. They were talking about Misaki like he’s expandable, and now he’s being discussed in the manner of a lab rat. “Say…”

He barely had the time to process why the Green King isn’t showing any pain when there are two knives draining his blood, but his guess is that blood isn’t a matter. His main goal is to distract these two Kings, the second one yet to be identified, and get out of the villa.

The catch is, he doesn’t know if Yukari will tail them, or if Misaki got anything on his device.

“Haven’t you heard?” without waiting for a reply, he throws two knives in front of each enemy, something Misaki managed to give him discreetly, his blue aura exploding with blinding light.

He takes Misaki’s hand and sprints towards the window he spotted earlier.

“Trust me?” he breaks the glass.

“Not once in my life.”

Carrying Misaki bridal-style, he plummets from the sill.

 

///

 

“That was not worth it,” Saruhiko curses, even shallow breaths hurting his motherfucking _ankles_. “Say, Lieutenant, was my sacrificial ankle shit worth it?”

“Always so crass,” the blonde officer looks at the vitals. “Your ankles are sprained, not broken, according to our doctor. The usage of your blue aura as a cushion definitely helped. Yata-san turned in the device, and we were able to identify the ‘second king’ in the presence near the Green King.”

“Where’s…”

“Kusanagi-san relieved him of bar-related business since his involvement with Scepter 4 might have exhausted him,” he hears a sigh, foretelling him trouble. “You’re in the ICU, and since all he needs is a good night’s sleep, he’s in the meditation room.”

“Where’s Captain?”

A soft smile livens up the Lieutenant’s features. “I am not sure if you truly wish to know.”

The curtain closes, leaving Saruhiko to wallow in self-pity.

“You were taken from me,” he murmurs, the mind’s visual of the middle school version of Misaki floating in front of him. “Or was I taken by jealousy before that happened?”

 

With the special IV drips being so potent, Saruhiko fell asleep with his glasses on. He wakes up and almost presses the EMERGENCY BUTTON when he sees Misaki’s face practically atop his. He makes the mistake of flinching backwards, bumping his head into the metal rail.

“Idiot monkey,” Misaki tucks him into the bed, something so foreign flashing in his hazel eyes. “You decided to go on a suicide mission?”

“Being kidnapped to be used to lure you out just to be told I was the actual target wasn’t on the job description,” he turns away from the loud boy, tugging his glasses off. “Why are you here?”

“You risked your life to get out of that hellhole,” Misaki’s hands ghost over his neck, barely ten centimetres above his burnt mark. “When I did the same for you so…”

Saruhiko feels Misaki’s hand close over where his mark is. They got it in the identical place without saying much of their reasons.

“I understand…” he clasps his hand over the warmth he missed. “You let yourself walk into the trap they set up…”

“The Green King said you took me for granted…” despite the furious waves of red aura Misaki emits, Saruhiko’s blue aura stays silent. “Why?”

“He thrives on chaos and manipulation,” Saruhiko brings Misaki’s hand to his lips, cherishing the heat. “You know better than to fall for a lie that obvious.”

“It still hit me hard. Even a second of thinking you take me for granted…”

Saruhiko turns around, detecting this _anger_ is actually despair. The glistening tears prove him so.

“Who’s the idiot now if you truly think I take you for granted?” Saruhiko kisses one corner of Misaki’s eye. “I’d be bored without you.”

“Does it hurt for you to say the direct truth for once?” Misaki’s hands reach for his neck, so he braces for the shorter boy to grab his collar.

But the warmth, the familiar comfortable warmth, simply cups his neck. He’s confused by this. Seldom does Misaki do things he hasn’t predicted.

“If you’re going to strangle me, the least you can do is be naked,” Saruhiko effortlessly removes one hand and places it over his erratic heartbeat. “Does this count as being _directly truthful?”_

“I want you to say it, Saru,” there’s no heat nor sadness in those words. Only hope.

“Misaki,” the name slips out, barely enough air to be carried out of his lungs, but Misaki’s moonstruck expression says he _felt_ it more than he heard it. “There’s no one else but Misaki.”

“ _Was that so hard?”_

 

Saruhiko wakes up in the same room he first found himself in, breaths ragged, cold sweat and cold fear mixing horribly well. He thrashes around, discovering his wrists are cuffed and his ankles are only far enough for him to pace in the room. He feels safe once he realises he still has the two emergency ninja-stars.

“Ah, that was fun,” Hisui claps slowly, more amused than actually satisfied. “Didn’t know how far my manipulation can go, did you, Fushimi?”

Blue and red auras flicker weakly. “You had help from the Grey King.”

“I wondered how much of the… pleasant dream you’d deem as reality… I guess you aren’t the smart one for nothing,” Hisui snaps his fingers, and a small child walks into the room. “This villa, indeed, is my secret base of sorts. You know about the JUNGLE system, I believe?”

“I’m not stupid enough to create an account for a suspicious looking gaming site again, but I admit it’s impressive,” Saruhiko wonders if Scepter 4 noticed his absence, and how long it’s been. “But those online players aren’t your real Clansmen, am I right?”

“I was the first to meet him in person,” the kid exclaims. “I heard that you’re number three in Scepter 4… it’d be fun to beat you in a battle.”

“Silence, Sukuna,” Hisui gives the kid a warning glare. “I want him to work as a double agent for us, not kill him.”

“Oh, I get it,” _play dumb? “_ I betray Scepter 4 like I did HOMRA. Live up to my title.”

“I’m not in a—”

The surprised look in Hisui’s face can’t be faked, Saruhiko deduces, especially when someone’s too quick for either of the bastard’s bodyguards to stop the attacker from throwing a red aura charged knife into his shoulder.

 _I rarely drop my knives carelessly…_   Saruhiko resists whistling at the damage this intruder managed on their own. _Of course, I might have dropped a couple of knives when someone grabbed me, but only one moron I know would pick up any of them…_

“I think JUNGLE can fuck back off to the underground,” Misaki walks towards the foyer, a rare feature since Saruhiko imagined the fiery-vanguard would use one of his skateboard tricks for a more effective entrance. “In case you guys missed the memo from being underground so long… only _I_ get to kill that stupid monkey.”

“You need to brush up on your manipulation skills, Hisui,” Saruhiko feigns a sigh. “Nice timing, vanguard.”

“This villa is track-proof, did you know that, oh-great-lord-of-tech?” Misaki clicks his tongue, another knife readied between his knuckles. “As a safety measure, Munakata bugged you. Of course, when your body was dragged here, the signal got jacked. I say whoever runs this fort is better than you.”

“Give me a chance to look at their programmes and anti-malware, you undergrown imp,” Saruhiko kinda needs Misaki to melt his cuffs, but the vanguard seems to be in no mood for that. “If I can’t be tracked, how did you find me?”

“Cliché,” the kid scoffs. “Don’t say anything in your mind, Iwa-san.”

“Ah, but that’s the only viable reasoning how Yatagarasu managed to find us without anyone better at hacking than Fushimi-san,” the old man—the Grey King—seems vaguely perturbed. “HOMRA doesn’t have a hacker. It’s one thing to decode and steal information, but Fushimi-san can undo any firewalls or sophisticated programmes after studying those.”

“Thank you for stroking my ego, though I need other things to be stroked at the moment,” he catches the knife Misaki throws at him between his teeth, instantly transferring some of his blue aura into it. “Your first mistake was admitting you want to hurt both of us.”

“Oh dear,” Yukari, now speaking in a tone he recognises. “Are we about to have a serious fight?”

“Your second one was thinking I’d join JUNGLE,” thankfully, his red aura seems to be stronger near Misaki, which is a bit odd, and he manages to melt his ankle-cuffs in time of his last point. “The last was not restraining me with aura-block restraints.”

Saruhiko jumps up, dropping his knife barely a nanosecond later, and executes a perfect kick to impale the blade into the ground, a thin veil of blue aura keeping the Green Clan confined.

“You and I need to talk,” Saruhiko hisses.

 

Misaki leads him inside the apartment they used to share. He waits for the vanguard to start explaining.

“You were locked up for a week,” Misaki starts, his hand going towards where his HOMRA mark is. “Distrust grew between HOMRA and Scepter 4. Mikoto-san… Munakata tried to stop it, but it backfired, I guess.”

“What do you mean, it backfired?”

“A King is only strong with more Clansmen, and Clansmen are stronger with their King…” Misaki shakes his head. “There was… or should I say _were?_ ”

“Don’t tell me…”

“Damocles Down,” Misaki scoffs. “I was there. No one, but each other, heard the last words. Mikoto-san was smiling. They…”

“You know who the new Red King is,” Saruhiko sees the red aura flickering in Misaki’s eyes. “Don’t… you?”

“We can’t tell for sure without the new King summoning his Sword of Damocles,” Misaki evades in a smart way.

“You know it’s a guy,” Saruhiko hisses.

“I’m just your stupid Misaki, what would I know?”

“Kusanagi is better in combat situation, but in raw strength, you were only second to Mikoto-san,” he accuses weakly.

“… that’s true,” Misaki turn away from him, walking out to the veranda. “Certain things have to be performed by the selected person to be chosen…”

“Misaki…”

Then it hits him.

 _Both Red and Blue Kings are to be succeeded,_ he wonders if that was what Misaki wanted to say.

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to be someone with more logic to be selected?” Saruhiko knows better than to fight the truth. _But that’s what you want, Misaki_. “You and I both know we… lack that.”

“I’m not the Red King.”

“Flat-out lie,” Saruhiko clicks his tongue. “Though I suppose it’s technically true until you claim the Sword.”

“Even if I was the Red King, no one figured out who the Blue King is,” Misaki throws his arms wide open. “We know the Blues are all about honour, so someone would have stepped out and told us.”

 _Unless that person was locked up for a week,_ “when did the former Kings die?”

“I’d say almost immediately after your capture,” Misaki turns to face him. “Why?”

“Yukari… mentioned Phase One when I was captured,” he tries to juggle between the manipulated dream Hisui showed and the reality one. “What if… assuming you’re the real Misaki… having the Red and Blue Kings kill each other was Phase Two?”

“Phase Three would entail the new Red and Blue Kings claiming their titles,” Misaki follows his train of thoughts. “It’s not safe…”

“It hasn’t been safe since you dragged me into this world, Yata Misaki,” he extends his hand, fingers splayed out. “You’re responsible for my actions.”

“None of us was ready,” Misaki brushes off the bait easily. “Can you go back your dorm now, Saru?”

“They don’t know I’ve been rescued yet, do they?” he feels the blue aura coiling inside him, like a snake ready to strike.

“No one knows I broke into JUNGLE base to start with,” Misaki walks back into his room, a clear invitation.

Saruhiko closes the slide door behind them, and catches up to his Misaki in a few long strides. His red aura flares to life, the same fire mirrored in his eyes.

He wonders if his blue aura is all Misaki sees.

“Whatever their endgame is,” Misaki loops his arms around his neck, quasi-forcing him to angle down a little. “We’ll have each other.”

He doesn’t want to think the kiss was his sweetest nightmare.

 

///

 

Next time Saruhiko sees Misaki is when he was talking to Hidaka, briefing over the security system he could recall from the JUNGLE fort. He hears someone approaching him, and it’s the temporary Captain, Awashima.

“HOMRA wants to speak to both of us,” she informs, asking Hidaka silently to excuse them both.

“I’m guessing the boisterous vanguard and the barkeeper are the ones wanting this meeting,” Saruhiko wonders if Awashima has the same hypothesis he came up with.

“Why are you hiding, Fushimi-san?”

 _There we go_.

“Don’t you find it ironic if I was the Blue King?” he deflects, dropping the bait.

“Munakata-san wouldn’t have taken in a HOMRA member knowing you keep your red aura,” Awashima sighs. “You reminded him of how he was.”

“You seem to know so much about our dark, broody, mysterious former captain,” Saruhiko’s forefinger trace the burnt edge of his HOMRA symbol. “I felt weak, you know? I was deep in the dream land to tell what was real and what wasn’t. I couldn’t even tell Mikoto-san died. HOMRA all have the Red Insignia tattooed on their chosen spot. It’s got traces of the Red King’s power. Kind of like a dying message, it’d let the bearer know the King is dead.”

“Yata-san rescued you three days go. Double Damocles Down happened a week ago,” her sharp eyes ask the question louder than any verbal comment.

“What took you so long, Fushimi?” the barkeeper sounds neutral, dressed in a pair of black slacks and a white dress shirt.

“Spying over unknowing people, no less,” Misaki, for once, is wearing a pair of black skinny jeans, hints of fishnet apparent in the slashes. His beanie is missing as well, his simple white t-shirt replaced by a black Henley.

“It’s not _unknowing_ when you know I always have my eyes on you, Misaki~” he senses something serious by the look Misaki gives him. “Tsk, what’s up?”

“We thought Yata-chan was the next Red King,” Kusanagi starts. “And he told us we’ll find the truth to our claim if we come here to see the two authority figures of Scepter 4…”

“Let’s have a walk, shall we?”

 

Eerie red glow pulsates from Misaki the moment all four of them are outside. The light sears a large area, but it doesn’t turn Saruhiko into a heap of ash. It feels more protective than aggressive.

“The Dresden Slates… it’s safe to say it has a strange sense of humour,” Misaki looks away, gazing into the horizon. The red aura flares with all the fury it can unleash, whirling in a fiery storm. “This red aura… isn’t mine… to keep…”

Saruhiko barely catches the knowing glint in Awashima’s otherwise icy blue eyes before he feels something tugging at him.

In that moment, he’s in two different worlds at once. There’s the world where he resides close to Misaki, and the world that is…

 _Celestial_ , he gasps. A blobby figure, glowing with the same red aura Misaki was emanating floats towards him.

 _“Do you know what this means?”_ he hears the voice inside his head.

He reaches out, wondering what the others see. He doesn’t know, but what he thinks he did is grab a red, glowing hand that is eerily the size of Misaki’s.

 

Saruhiko blinks, and he feels the change. It’s not hard to recognise the shift in his powers.

His blue aura melted away.

And, perhaps instinctively, he releases the newfound red aura, such _raw power_ , swelling inside him, arms thrown wide open.

 _His Red Sanctum_.

“Heh,” Saruhiko can’t properly _think_ right now as he gawps at the Red Sword of Damocles above him. The hilt of the magical Sword looks like the one on his knives, but fancier. “Fushimi Saruhiko… the Third King, the Red King has a horrid ring to it…”

“This wasn’t what anyone expected,” Kusanagi, bless his heart, not, states the obvious. “But there’s no reason… _Yata-san!_ ”

“I didn’t lie to anyone,” Misaki address everyone on the little path leading away from the Scepter 4 headquarter, but his hazel eyes with blue and red whirls are fixed on him—the red aura he passed onto Saruhiko. “I’m not the brightest, as a certain monkey keeps reminding me… I only had dreams asking me what I’d do to protect the one person who matters the most to me. I kept telling the voice I don’t know—and I didn’t. At least, not until Saru was kidnapped. The night Mikoto-san and Munakata-san passed away…” a small, icy clear-blue orb appears between Misaki’s cupped palms. “I told the voice I’d give up my life to save Fushimi Saruhiko. The voice told me a certain sacrifice needs to be made before _It_ happens. Since the wording was vaguer than… you see the outcome.”

Misaki throws the orb up, and it explodes into a beautiful Sword—the Blue Sword of Damocles with elegant designs befitting someone as extraordinary like _his_ Misaki.

“I was preparing to be in service of Yata-chan, not a moody still-a-teenager-asshole,” Kusanagi jokes. “Does this mean we’ll be working together more, Seri-chan?”

“I’m not easily swayed, good luck,” Awashima sighs. “It’s going to be hell for you to fit in, Yata-san.”

“Fun?” Misaki’s lips twitch. “Oh well, at least I know how to use those pointy things.”

“Hm?” Awashima halts in her steps.

Misaki recalls his Sword just as Saruhiko does the same. “Well, I didn’t really take kendo lessons or anything, but I picked up a few things. Oh, and even though this is Scepter 4 and all, we won’t be continuing the formalities as long as I’m King.”

 

///

 

It’s been a month since Saruhiko claimed his title as the Red King.  He can easily tell HOMRA members are as befuddled as he is about this. Currently nursing a large glass of coke, he glances at the approaching person.

“Hm?” he rolls his hoodie sleeves back up to his elbows.

“Pardon me for wanting to say hi,” the newcomer has a voice that irks Saruhiko for no reason. He senses waves of aura radiating from him though. “Perhaps I let Lieutenant run things by himself too long… he was the only friend I had for a long time, after all.”

_I feel like I should know him. My Sanctum surely recognises this man!_

“I reckon you were acquainted with both the former Red King and the former Blue King? My sister was eager to share…” Saruhiko is glad he put his glass down, otherwise Kusanagi would scold him for breaking yet another glassware. “Strange… what I read from the Slates wasn’t like the outcome.”

“But you know the Slates better than anyone,” he quells his red aura from going full-attack mode.

“My reputation precedes me,” the Silver King grins, extending a hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Fushimi Saruhiko. I believe the Blue King is on his way as well.”

 

He supposes it’s a rare sight to see three cups of tea at a fucking bar. Since Misaki didn’t let anyone come inside the bar to this meeting, Saruhiko gives orders for HOMRA members to stay away from the lounge area. He’s surprised Misaki is wearing the same outfit as the last time they saw each other.

“Did you ban the uniform code?” Saruhiko couldn’t help himself. He wants to strip Misaki out of the Scepter 4 uniform one day.

“I still have my sabre, so I’d shush it,” Misaki turns towards Adolf K. Weismann. “Sorry, no one bothered to teach him manners.”

“Reminds me of Lieutenant,” Weismann smiles. “Oh, you know him as the Gold King, I suppose. We met at the end of the War.”

“What’s your business?” Misaki presses. “It’s happy hour. Kusanagi isn’t fond of closing the lounge off during happy hour.”

“I’m well aware of Scepter 4’s… _careful_ handpicking of who enters the building, Yatagarasu,” he holds his hand up when his… bodyguard? Saruhiko isn’t so sure if the Black Dog is the Silver King’s new Clansman, definitely the second-in-command. “Forgive Kuro. He has a bad temper.”

“Ah, it’s never a good thing to be ill-tempered in a swordfight,” Saruhiko snickers.

“Back to the point… I heard the new Green King tried to kill you both. I know that the Grey King faked his death. Being a King… let’s just say the power wasn’t bestowed to be cowards and bombard with sneak-attacks,” Weismann fusses over his tea mug. “I’m not suggesting an alliance. It’s too fragile for three Clans to carry out such risky plan. Were any of us to deem someone to have breached the vow of confidentiality, we are free to retaliate in appropriate manner. I just want Scepter 4 to secure our position near JUNGLE’s fort. Yata-san left a mark near the villa, a physical one that’s inconspicuous.”

“Are we going to kill either one of them?” Misaki’s blue aura takes form of navy flames. Saruhiko feels like he’s looking at a giant blue falcon.

“Oh, that one knows how to jest,” Kuro—the Black Dog—sneers. “We’re bringing any of the JUNGLE members we deem evil _justice_.”

 

“You’re more than welcome to stay here, Yata-chan,” Kusanagi comes back downstairs once the coast is clear. “Though I’m still trying to figure out how you became the _Blue_ King.”

“The valued principles of each Clan,” Saruhiko pours himself a cooler, only to mix it with coke. “Misaki wanted to give his life in order to _protect_ me. _Save_ me from any harm. Create _order_ in his own way so no other people will be tortured like I was.”

“But you?” Kusanagi grabs himself a bottle of vodka. “Everyone in HOMRA expected Yata-chan to be the next King, myself included, so that proves how powerful he is. As none of us likes breathing the air a city-radius away from Scepter 4, we don’t know what your people were thinking. Sorry,” Kusanagi salutes him with his bottle. “Your former people.”

“I didn’t hear anything,” Saruhiko replies honestly. “First thing I noticed about this Red King business was the night Misaki rescued me. I felt my red aura almost completely overriding the blue one. And the blue aura was almost usually the dominant one. And I—”

There’s a gap in his memories; he didn’t notice it before. He knows that Hisui probably has ability to manipulate someone’s memories a little—a rare feat only Strains get.

 _But he technically started out as a Strain_ , he wants to remember, but he can’t.

“Just as I thought,” Kusanagi groans. “We couldn’t find you for a week. Judging by your lack of premonition before being chosen… your memories are taken.”

“I’ll ask Awashima to do something about that,” Misaki states. “It’s a King’s power, I get that, but we’re two, yeah?”

 

“You look better in the blue uniform than I ever did,” Saruhiko chirps, watching Misaki getting changed into the Scepter 4 uniform.

“Fuck off,” Misaki growls, zipping his boots up. “How do I look?”

“Can’t tell, I suggest you start with your coat— _slowly_ ,” Saruhiko purrs teasingly.

“I do hate the coat, but the ensemble feels moot without it,” Misaki steps in front of the full-body mirror.

They custom-tailored Misaki’s uniform, he can see that. The coat hangs twenty centimetres aboveground, trimmed with dark blood red hue. He feels honoured the sleeves are ¾ like his were, which can only mean his black dress shirt is short-sleeve. The vest is the same shade of royal blue as the coat, three buttons accommodating it.

“Have you named your sabre yet?” Saruhiko stalks behind Misaki, holding onto the waistcoat.

“… you’re gonna laugh at me…”

Saruhiko parts his lips to ask why, but Misaki perfectly abuses that moment to kiss him senseless.

“Let’s not make the medics wait any longer, Red King.”

 

It’s more than a little awkward to see his former colleagues as supposed on-truce enemies. People (read: idiots) like Hidaka wave at him energetically. They reach the medical centre before too long.

“Memory loss,” the doctor taps at the clipboard with his pen. “I suppose forcing the affects of the Green Aura to turn off by suppressing it with the Red and Blue aura is possible.”

“But?” Misaki quips.

“There’s a chance it will chip away your Swords significantly regardless of success,” the doctor looks at Saruhiko. “And if it fails, you will live without recognising who you are, Fushimi-san.”

“Saru—”

“Just do it. Do we have to be outside?” Saruhiko blocks Misaki from blurting his heart out.

 

Saruhiko had practice making flames before. The self-inflicted burn disappeared when he became the Red King, he can only guess why, so he knows how lasting his burns can be. He recalls the fire gathered inside him when the two Strains talked so low of Misaki before he killed them both. He recalls the fiery energy seeping from him when he escaped JUNGLE.

“Captain,” the doctor urges.

When their auras meet, Saruhiko blacks out.

 

///

 

“Ugh…” his head hurts from brightness engulfing him. “Am I…”

“This was a test,” a familiar gruff voice answers.

“Y-you died,” Saruhiko splutters out.

“I did,” Mikoto grimaces. “And I know that Hisui will stop at nothing to achieve his goal.”

“The Phases,” Saruhiko never felt more desperate. “is Munakata-san anywhere near?”

“Kid,” Mikoto gives him a shit-eating grin. “You’re everything he expected you to be. Don’t wallow in self-pity. Yata needs you. Just like I tried to tell myself…” Saruhiko arches an eyebrow. “Flames were primarily used for protection, not destruction or creation…”

 

“…Ru! Saru! Wake the fuck up, or I swear to God, I’ll drag you out of Hell just to kill you myself!”

“…loud…” Saruhiko reaches out, hands rummaging randomly. He retracts them once he realises he shouldn’t have. “Am I in heaven?”

“You’ll never—”

“Captain,” Awashima clears her throat.

“His heartbeat is slowing down to the regulated, don’t get your panties in a twist,” Misaki tumbles out of the bed. “You were out for a few hours.”

“Well,” Saruhiko tries his best to skim through the images flickering in his mind. “They made me re-live the day at least five times by the time it was midnight and between some of them, I’d have the red blobby thing talk to me. Before I proclaimed myself the Red King, it said _‘do you know what this means?_ ’ _.”_ He hums thoughtfully. “When it visited me before then, it attacked me. Or rather, I _absorbed it_ into myself.”

“That explains why you could manifest your Sword of Damocles after I burned… up,” Misaki clicks his tongue.

“We don’t know how many Clans saw the Swords, Yataga—I mean Captain,” Awashima reminds them. “If what you suspect is true, there are multiple ‘Phases’ in the Green King’s plan. Up to Phase Three is complete, if Captain’s guess is correct.”

“I wish to speak to Saru alone,” Misaki’s blush indicates what this is about.

“Misaki…” Saruhiko hates it.

“Don’t worry, Seri-chan,” Kusanagi looks too pleased for Saruhiko’s liking. “Fushimi would never harm Yata-chan.”

 

“You and I left a few things out of context of our storytelling,” Saruhiko leans against the wall near Captain’s chaise, itching to unsheathe his knives, once they reach the Captain’s quarters.

“Where’s the surprise? No need for our babysitters to find out why our fates changed,” Misaki scratches at his collarbone. “It’s the manner of how things got executed we ended up out of our elements, Saru.” The Blue King tugs at his shirtfront to reveal the HOMRA mark is gone from his skin. “Strange, hm? The mark stayed when you switched over, but I guess different rules leash onto the Kings…”

“You became… wise,” Saruhiko studies the blade resting against the fancy stand. “This…”

“I think Munakata-san’s sabre is in some honoured hall somewhere,” Misaki’s blush returns. “You left your sabre in the building before you were abducted, Saru. When… I didn’t want to give it to you when you aren’t part of Scepter 4 anymore. I got selfish.”

“I can’t unsheathe it without having blue aura anyways,” he muses. “And also…”

“It shouldn’t unsheathe in accordance of mine either. My Sanctum shouldn’t oppress such safety measure so easily,” Misaki chuckles. “If this doesn’t prove we gave each other our current Sanctums, I don’t know what does.”

“Awashima doesn’t know?” Saruhiko arches an eyebrow. “She should know how these work.”

“Not a lot would think the lock remains on this sabre when your blue aura is supposedly no more…” Misaki takes the hilt and grasps it. “‘Pleiades’ is what you named this…”

“I can see you added your own… touches to it,” Saruhiko barks out.

“Captain privileges,” Misaki smiles tauntingly. “It’s in blue, don’t be gloom.”

“I guess people can—”

“No cameras, huh?” Misaki’s hand tugs at the bolo tie from their middle school uniform. “I wonder why that is…”

“You’re wasting my time,” heat spreads throughout his body.

“Taking after Mikoto-san’s fashion?” familiar warmth spreads like wildfire between them, and Saruhiko realises this is all _him_.

“They won’t let me revert to my emo punk fashion… tsk, leave it to a bunch of lawless morons to say emo was far from Mikoto-san’s fashion of choice,” he’s a fan of how Misaki is using the tie though.

“I like the look of red on you, Saru,” Misaki purrs, despite how both of them are in a semi-public space. From experiences, Saruhiko knows that no one in this damn building will knock before entering.

“I’ll like the look of me on top of you,” he returns.

“I’ll tell you the name of the sabre if you kiss me,” Misaki barters.

“Something tells me the specific location of this kiss is going to get me in trouble somehow,” Saruhiko arches an eyebrow.

“I told Awashima and Kusanagi to gather the quickest members to round up any JUNGLE members who might be loitering about. They need to find upper-level targets for points, do they not?” Misaki sounds reasonable, which Saruhiko has yet to get used to. “A quickie…”

“Damn, Misaki,” Saruhiko lets Misaki pull him even closer with the help of the bolo tie. “I’ll let you know I saw unforgettable shit in this room. I don’t think adding to that list is a good idea.”

“S’not a secret our old Kings had a… certain past,” Misaki locates one of his knives and unsheathes it expertly. “Why do you have this?”

“Habit,” he smothers any follow-up questions the idiot might ask by claiming those lips, taunting ones at that.

There’s no resistance, but they both know it’s futile. It’s like every time their lips collide, an unbreakable bond reforms between them. He’ll admit he fantasised about fucking his Misaki sitting on the Captain’s chaise. His red aura flickers in response to Misaki’s blue’s challenge.

“We have at least thirty minutes before the first round of people file in our suspects,” Misaki hums.

“That’s enough, isn’t it?” Saruhiko eagerly undresses them both, sadly unable to cut them open with his knife since Misaki needs his uniform. The said knife has clanged onto the floor in flurry of their movements.

He doesn’t question why there are two full bottles of lube in Misaki’s desk drawer, and rubs his slicked-up head against the other’s puffy hole.

“Aw,” he bends down, whispering into Misaki’s ear. “Look at you… bent over your desk, needy for me…”

“Not much different from last day of middle school, is it?” despite the confidence, a note of doubt rings loud and clear.

“Hmph…”

Saruhiko bites into the place where the HOMRA mark used to be on Misaki, humming from pleasure. He’s eased into a slow grind, the kind that got Misaki impatient and, more importantly, needy.

“You can be less of a ruffian and say the magic words, you know,” Saruhiko is pleased by the bruising spot on Misaki’s collarbone.

“Can’t let you have it too easily,” the other grunts, a cute sound in Saruhiko’s ears.

“Too bad,” he picks up his speed, only to halt altogether when he feels Misaki clenching around him. “I like the pain.”

“Saru…” he looks back, adorable red mottling his face. “I’m so close…”

“That’s not it.”

“… might explode…” the words are spoken muted, nasal. “Please, Saru…”

“Cute,” Saruhiko slides his hand until he finds Misaki’s nipple and gives it a little squeeze, triggering his release.

“Saru!” he flinches, then trembles from the aftershocks. Saruhiko speeds up until he’s close himself.

“Say,” Saruhiko bites into the sensitive spot near Misaki’s ear. “Do you want to go on a date tonight?”

“Now’s not the—”

Overstimulation and Saruhiko’s own release works like magic while working as Misaki’s muzzle. Letting out an exhausted mewl, Misaki lets Saruhiko dress him.

“Evil manipulator, aren’t you?” there’s no bite in Misaki’s words.

“I give you the best orgasm in three, four years and this is how you treat me?” Saruhiko picks up the sabre that used to belong to him. “So…?”

“‘Scorpio’,” if Saruhiko didn’t know any better, he’d say Misaki is red down to his neck. “Since you’re the original owner anyways.”

“What, I sting you like a scorpion?” Saruhiko studies Misaki, naked save for the blue coat.

“Shut up… I need to get dressed if I want to leave this building with you…”

 

They manage to arrive on scene where Kusanagi is waiting for them. Awashima has her sabre at the lower-class Green Clan member’s neck.

“This will be fun,” Saruhiko smirks at Misaki’s remark. “Take it this is the leader of those lawless ruffians?”

“You can say that,” Saruhiko unsheathes a knife and throws it to the ground next to the guy’s foot, startling them. “See, I really have to get better at using my red aura, my bad.”

He shields his own eyes as the flame burst from the knife.

“They said you’d be the Blue King,” the grunt sounds more amused that surprised. “Has the Silver King contacted you?”

“What do you know about the Silver—”

Saruhiko pushes Misaki back and grabs the grunt by their collar. “Ah, so it’s possible to use a programme to make you say certain things once the actual human is knocked out cold, isn’t it, Hisui?”

“Saru, what are you talking about?”

“That Clansman is technically a robot. Hisui, the Green King, is using the actual human’s image so this robot version can walk around like a human,” Saruhiko flicks a bit of his flame to the robot and it’s enough to stop the programmes from running. “Hisui used a cheap tactic to lure the four of us out here.”

“You mean…”

“Sorry, Nagare-chan is busy at the moment, boys,” Saruhiko instinctively reaches for two of his knives. “He sent me to send a few greetings… and he wants to know if your ankle’s doing fine, Fushimi-kun.”

“None of your concern,” then he realises his mistake. “Damn you…”

“Looks like my King shook you up pretty bad,” Mishajuki shrugs. “Wow, I was expecting a proper crowd, but it’s just you four…”

“I thought the Grey King was his babysitter, not you,” Misaki, apparently still an idiot, goads the Green Clan’s second-in-command. “Or did he grow too old?”

“Ah, so you share Fushimi-kun’s memories Nagare-chan manipulated… I did not know that was the part of his plans.”

Saruhiko sends a wave of heat the moment Mishakuji lands onto the pavement, clicking his tongue. He throws a knife at the arrogant bastard, managing to nick his side.

“Still without manners, I see,” Mishakji grins. “Tsk, I was hoping we’d go the route where you join us so you wouldn’t be a problematic King for us to deal with, Fushimi-kun.”

“Oi, just because the two Kings before me tried to blow up a city or two doesn’t mean I’m in the category!”  Saruhiko lets his hand ignite. _Mikoto-san wants me to use this flame to protect those I care about. I don’t want to fail him_.

“Do you know why Yatagarasu was not our chosen?” Mishakuji tries for a slash, but Saruhiko throws a knife before his dirty katana can get anywhere close to his Misaki. “We need someone clear-headed. Someone who knows a way with our system.”

“I mean,” Saruhiko throws another flaming knife as Misaki draws an arc of ice blasting in front of their opponent. “I almost succeeded, didn’t I? I got your old man Iwa-san’s attention when I was fifteen.”

“Two on one when I’m only a second-in-command? You guys are ruthless,” Mishakuji sighs, but maniacal laughter dances in his eyes.

“We’re trying to minimise the damage, but if you insist…”

Saruhiko curses when a blue shield makes him, Kusanagi, and Awashima stagger a metre from its wall.

“You’re so cocky, and I don’t like cocky bastards,” Misaki’s glowing with the blue aura, and, thankfully, it’s not the glow that warns of the Sword of Damocles being drawn. “I was the vanguard of HOMRA before I was suddenly selected as the Blue King for my… sacrifice. Willingness _to protect the one person I love, at all cost.”_

 _Did he_ …? Saruhiko imagines this is what they mean by a _short-circuiting brain_.

The intensity of Misaki’s aura only intensifies after his proclamation.

“Ah, _that_ ’s what I didn’t want Iwa-san to say that night,” Mishakuji sounds entertained more than anything. “The cliché of love… that’s why Fushimi-kun left HOMRA, it doesn’t take a genius to see this.”

“Yeah,” blue flames swirl around Misaki, spiralling upwards until he takes the form of a giant falcon. “You only realise it’s worth more than anything after you lose it. We covered up our lost hope with vicious hostility. We fooled ourselves. But in the end…”

Saruhiko manages to throw a red aura-embedded knife into the blue shield, but perhaps, that was Misaki’s doing.

“We have each other’s back,” Saruhiko mumbles, knowing it’s too quiet for the Blue King to hear, but he knows it by heart.

His knife acted as a nice distraction, giving Misaki a chance to slash close to Mishakuji’s face.

“Next time, it’s your throat,” Misaki warns right before punching Mishakuji in the face, knocking him out cold.

“Tsk,” Saruhiko’s the first to get through as the blue shield dissipates. “You went overboard.”

“I meant what I said,” he glances over his shoulder, a smirk directed at Saruhiko. “I love the HOMRA guys like family, but technically, they’re my enemies now. And you know I don’t harbour anything for the blues. So I say this again— _I meant what I said, Saru_.”

“You really are an idiot, Misaki,” he repeats the phrase he’s uttered probably a thousand times by now. He grabs the other King by his collar, dipping his head down. “But I’m glad you’re _my_ idiot, or no one would have your back.”

“Captain,” Kusanagi sounds so smug, Saruhiko wonders if he can punch his own Clansman. “Looks like you’re busy with our King, so I’ll take over and tell HOMRA that you’re… _otherwise occupied_ for the rest of the day. Let’s go, Seri-chan!”

“You can’t seriously maim Kusanagi-san, but you can give him a little slap on his back or something,” Misaki quips in helpfully, blue flames flickering around his hand for a split second before it dissolves into thin air.

“How do you think it will fare?” Saruhiko can’t get rid of the feeling that someone’s spying on them. He links his arm with Misaki and starts walking towards the direction of their apartment. “Kings have made temporary alliances before, but I doubt they were dating.”

“You’d be a fool if Munakata-san didn’t harbour any feelings for Mikoto-san… romantic ones, of course.”

 

Saruhiko stops feeling like they’re being watched when they enter the building. He has to stop himself from pinning Misaki against the staircase and kiss him there every minute it takes for them to have privacy.

“I can feel it, you know,” Misaki strips out of his dress shirt. “Your red aura calling my blue aura out. Challenging me.”

“I’m not challenging you,” Saruhiko smirks when Misaki tugs at his collar again. “Unless you want me to, that is.”

“I hate foreplay, Misaki-chan, so you might wanna jump right in,” Saruhiko takes a knife out, waving it invitingly.

“This stuff is expensive and takes long to arrive at the HQ,” Misaki mumbles, using the knife to cut through Saruhiko’s clothes. “Did I scrape you?”

“I wouldn’t mind anyways,” he replies, discarding the coat in a hurry. He rips the buttons open and pulls the slacks down gracelessly. “Would you prefer the bed?”

“Like you care,” Misaki is blushing all over, including the part Saruhiko wants to taste. “Pervert.”

“Hey, this,” he flicks his tongue against the slit. “Is mine as much as rest of you is.”

“Wait,” Saruhiko has his tongue out again when Misaki stops him. “Did someone follow you?”

“If it was one of those mobile capturing devices, they’d turn it off when we got naked,” Saruhiko tries to be reasonable, but he trusts Misaki’s instincts. “How much can you project your aura?”

“I could project it onto an object I wasn’t holding before becoming a King, why?”

“I still have a knife—”

“We’re in my bed! Why do you still have a knife!”

“—I’d prefer to have at least one so I can stab the bastard who ruins the moment in the hypothetical—”

Saruhiko _really_ hates being pushed down, but he lets it go this time since he felt an icy _something_ flying over his head. He wants to explain his confusion in vast array of vocabulary, but he doesn’t have the time.

“Ah,” Saruhiko covers Misaki’s nude form to give him time to cover himself with the coat or something. “I guess you’re an _observer_ as much as a douchebag.”

 _“I gave you a month as a… complementary adjusting period, Blue King_ ,” the voice has a bit of static, but there’s no doubt it’s Hisui. “ _Truly, I expected your roles to be… different. Who’d think the fiery vanguard knows the definition of ‘sacrifice’?”_

“We can’t destroy it yet,” Misaki whispers.

 _“As much as I’d enjoy the free show, I’m not interested tonight. My intention today is to let you know I won’t be waiting too long_.’”

The parakeet flies away with a single green feather floating down from where it was perched.

“Saru…”

“Shut up…” Saruhiko growls, pushing Misaki back onto the bed. “That bastard… he dares think he can outsmart me again?”

“Saru!” Misaki splutters, and Saruhiko parts his lips, noticing the warmth of Misaki’s skin from his chokehold.

“I…”

_The red rage…_

“Do you wanna take it out on me, Saru?” the words are nothing short of silken purr, Misaki’s cock half-hard already. “You remember how it used to be…”

“That was not… the right way,” Saruhiko admits he gave in to his anger before. He’d face-fuck Misaki or spank him until his anger dissipated. “And things have changed since… Misaki.”

“I liked it when you were rough, Saru,” Misaki brings his head down for a kiss. “Do your worst. Leave your mark on me. _Claim_ me.”

Saruhiko sees red. There’s a blue outline of the only person he learned to love, and that person wants him to hurt him.

“I’m not my father…” Saruhiko whispers more to himself than Misaki.

“You got control, I know that, Saru,” Misaki kisses him again.

He feels the moonlight bathing over him, these shared kisses the only thing he can remember from the night as they both drift off to sleep.

 

\---

 

 _Remember the choice you made, Red King_.

Saruhiko notices Misaki’s scent and warmth before he opens his eyes. Or knows he’s awake.

“Misaki?” he nuzzles his face against Misaki’s bare shoulder. “Misaki…”

“I’m sleeping… go ‘way…”

He chuckles low when Misaki’s hand brushes against his morning wood. He kisses his boyfriend—his _King_ —where he squirms the most, earning a playful shove near his vital organs.

“Any stronger and you’d punch my stomach out,” he jokes, nuzzling his nose against Misaki’s forehead. “How about a deal? I’ll blow you after breakfast if you get your cute ass out of bed right now.”

“I’ll get out of bed if you blow me now,” Misaki yawns, burrowing into his chest.

“I know you’ll stay in bed,” Saruhiko sighs.

Both their phones start ringing, making Misaki groan.

“Fushimi speaking~” Saruhiko answers the phone without checking the caller ID.

“ _I’m gonna try to ignore my guts telling me what happened if you’re the one answering, Fushimi,”_ the grumpy second-in-command chuckles. _“I called Yata-chan out of habit since we have a teenie-weenie problem right now. It wouldn’t be a problem if Yata-chan will be decent and call the minimal members from the special squad with Seri-chan.”_

“You need to put clothes on, sadly,” Saruhiko hops out of bed, and starts rummaging through the closet. “My, my, some of these should never leave this room, Misaki!”

“You’re the one to speak,” Misaki catches the dark green board shorts thrown at him. “I don’t have any pants that might fit you. You hate wearing shorts.”

“I forgot one of my sweatpants,” he finds it quickly. “Have you washed this recently?”

Misaki’s blush confirms all. “Shut up, stupid monkey…”

“Wait, _I’m_ the one to speak? You don’t want me to leave this room, Misaki?” his ankles are bared, and he just sighs in annoyance.

“Under tolerable circumstances. Let’s find our eloping spouses,” Misaki grunts.

 

Kusanagi is nowhere in sight when they near the cells, and Awashima gives them a salute. He looks at the furthest cell, not sure why he isn’t hearing anything malicious.

“Kusanagi-kun is interrogating Mishakuji,” the Blue Clan’s lieutenant fills them in. “I wouldn’t recommend getting caught in the crossfire.”

“Hisui has a plan, and it’s my duty to figure it out,” Misaki reasons, beckoning at Saruhiko to follow him. “I don’t trust that wannabe idol at all.”

“He has a list of reasons not to, starting with _trying to kill us_ ,” _to activate our Sanctums under the Green King’s orders_ , Saruhiko clicks his tongue, unsheathing a knife just in case. “Do you think… the Gold King knew?”

“He… absorbs the overwhelming energy from the Slate so it won’t explode with energy and confuse the innocent people,” Misaki sounds cautious of his wording. “Munakata-san was interested in taking over before the next Gold King arrives once the current passes away.”

“We don’t know when the Green King will strike and follow through,” Saruhiko realises, greeted with a round of applause.

“My, I was explaining to this bartender that my plans don’t involve _him_ directly and you guys figured out!” Mishakuji leans back. “See, Nagare-chan gave me a vague order of keeping you distracted. Rest of my actions are purely my own. I hear Kuro-chan gave you a visit, Saru-chan.”

“Call him _Saru-chan_ once more and I’ll cut your tongue out,” Misaki sounds calm and quiet, and that makes Mishakuji shut up.

“Our playtime is over, kids,” Mishakuji waves his hand. “Can’t you hear that?”

Saruhiko tries to call a blue shield reflexively, only to remember he doesn’t _have_ a blue aura anymore.

“ _Saru!_ ”

 

 _“Your choice was valiant, Fushimi Saruhiko. The Third King—the Red King,”_ there’s the voice again… why can’t I be sure who that is? _“It’s worthy of being the Blue King, or it was. To everyone, it’s a mystery why you didn’t succeed Munakata Reisi, and same for Yata Misaki and Suoh Mikoto.”_

_“What’s the meaning of this?” Saruhiko vaguely feels like he’s floating. “You’re the Slates, aren’t you? That’s why you…”_

_“A smart one,” the voice muses. “You didn’t keep your red aura because you were_ a _special case, no; you kept your red aura because it needed its fuse blown by someone willing to sacrifice for you since you’re_ the _special one, Red King.”_

 

 

“I need a lot of coke…” he mumbles, rubbing at his ringing temples. “How long has it been?”

“Long enough for Awashima-kun to give me four lectures why I shouldn’t ditch my duties for an enemy King,” Misaki’s thumbs rubs against his cheekbones, like the time he was experiencing delirium from a high fever and he was half-awake.

“I’m surprised you didn’t get ten,” Saruhiko ignores the blurry world and takes comfort in Misaki’s warmth. “So?”

“Hisui wishes to change the world. That’s been the primal force driving the Green Kings in the past,” Misaki sighs. “The classified file states the last Green King lost his life trying to steal the Dresden Slates. The Grey King was caught up, and assumed dead since. Ring any bell?”

“Ah,” he shifts so that he can face Misaki. “Misaki got smart… who’d imagine…”

“I had to read more shit than I ever wanted to, so I’ll take that as a compliment for now,” the Blue King’s flushed face can’t be healthy shade of red, or maybe Saruhiko is delirious again.

“Why am I in bed?”

“Doctor-patient roleplay sex, what else?” Misaki replies sarcastically. “I was able to put the shield up, but Hisui’s impact on the cell to break his boy toy out was too great for my considered effort. You might have a bit more brain damage.”

“This must be hell if Misaki knows what a brain damage is…” he responds half-heartedly. “What happened since?”

“The Gold King passed away from old age. Since Munakata-san was assisting him with something, the Gold and Blue Clans are in alliance. Adolf K. Weismann announced something I didn’t pay attention to,” Misaki admits. “You were to be discharged as soon as you woke up. We’re leaving.”

 

Misaki hailed a taxi as soon as they were out of the building. He didn’t catch the address Misaki gave the driver. Half an hour later, they arrive somewhere.

“Well?” Saruhiko can tell this is a personal affair, otherwise he wouldn’t have Kusanagi asking over texts him why both of them aren’t at the meeting.

“Today’s the last day of the Sakura Festival...” Misaki sighs, still in the blue Scepter 4 uniform. “I… I’m selfish, Saru. I know I’m the most selfish person I’ve met…”

“You talk of Sakura Festival, yet we’re at an abandoned park with lots of sakura trees and a few magnolias…” Saruhiko takes Misaki’s hand regardless. “What’s really on your mind?”

“We don’t know if we’re going to survive until the final phase Hisui is planning, Saru,” the Blue King looks at the trees in front of them. “We wasted too long fighting… when I die, I wanna die as yours.”

“No one’s dying,” Saruhiko hisses, clutching onto Misaki’s forearms. “Hisui won’t succeed his crazy plan. I got your back and you got mine, that’s how it is, Misaki!”

“I just wanted to go on a proper date with you,” the shorter boy grins. “I had a whole talk about how you’re the only one I love like this, so it’s only fair I try to show you.”

“You don’t need to show me anything,” he can feel all the walls he built to keep everyone out at that moment, sun falling down the horizon.

“Saru…”

They both feel it the moment it happens.

“That’s not normal, right?” Misaki whispers.

 

Stealing never was Saruhiko’s thing, but desperate times call for desperate measures. They ‘sneak in’ to a skateboard shop and take the largest one.

“Think you can do the acceleration trick you did when you had your red aura?” Saruhiko taunts.

“I’ll shove you if you say shit like that again, stupid monkey…”

 

They arrive just in time for the pandemonium to unfold before them.

Saruhiko guesses this is Phase Four.

“The Slates is safe yet…” he mumbles, glaring at the floating figure surrounded by the green aura.

“Ah,” Hisui deigns to float down to where he stands with Misaki. “Guess all the guests are here then.”

“Where’s the others?” Misaki growls, his fists glowing with his blue aura.

“‘Others’, you say?” Hisui’s hand crackles with electricity before it strikes the ground around them in a cage. “Safe asleep, you can say that.”

“I can’t feel any of my Clansmen, answer honestly for once!”

Saruhiko tugs at Misaki to keep him from charging recklessly.

“I just wanted uninterrupted conversation with my favourite Kings!” Hisui has the balls to look so hurt.

“You want to release the full power of the Slates, that’s my guess,” Saruhiko can’t believe it’s him and Misaki against this insane King. “Where’s the Grey King?”

“If all goes well, he’ll be transporting the Slates with Yukari-chan,” Hisui grins, “Play with me, boys.”

Saruhiko curses, thankful for the blue shield surrounding him. Summons his Sword of Damocles the moment the other two do the same.

 _He wants us to raise the Weismann level to the max_ , Saruhiko wonders if Misaki realised that.

A blinding light halts all movement until it goes away.

“Sorry, Nagare-kun,” the voice sounds unamused. “I can’t let you do something as stupid as what you’re planning.”

“Adolf K. Weismann,” Hisui snarls, the air around them cracking with electricity. “You’re supposed to be asleep.”

“And you’re supposed to be dead,” Weismann sighs. “I recalculated. Your plan will foil, Nagare-kun. Yes, I wanted everyone to have this power, but not like this… there’re better ways to do it.”

“You fool!”

A bolt of green lightning strikes where Weismann is. Saruhiko catches a glimpse of someone’s shadow and groans low.

“I thought Yukari-senpai would be here, but it looks like I don’t get the satisfaction of killing him today,” the infamous Black Dog sighs. “Where’s that insolent kid?”

“This is the meeting of Kings, dog, did you miss the note?” Hisui snarls.

“You know why you’re still alive?” before Saruhiko can complain, everyone is wrapped in a silver floating bubble. “I decided to share this kind of power, albeit selective. I had every right to destroy the Slates when I dug it up. Now… it’s a mess. _Bitte_ , _die Dresden Slates ist schon, aber…”_

 _He can’t be serious_.

Maybe, being the Silver King, the First King, and the fact that they don’t have two of the seven Kings to be in Weismann opposition does change things. He sees a flicker of blue trying to reach him before everything explodes in a blinding white-silver light.

 

///

 

“There’s a better way to wake up,” Saruhiko clicks his tongue, shaking his head to get rid of some rubbles. “Someone explain how Weismann managed to calculate Hisui’s airship would pass by at this precise moment.”

“I didn’t, thank you very much for the confidence,” Weismann laughs. “The old man has an impeccable timing.”

“You’re older than anyone,” he points out.

“Ah, well,” Weismann folds his umbrella. “Guess I’ll start aging again from the age of the dreadful thirties.”

“The horror,” Saruhiko tries to continue, but someone’s body tackles into him at full-force. He has half a second to react before that someone kisses him frantically.

“Misaki, mind waiting until we’re back in a place more private?” he purrs out.

“Just wanted to make sure you were alive,” the blush on Misaki’s adorable face says otherwise.

“Damocles Down,” Weisman sighs. “If his life was the price of stopping something so terrible from happening, so be it. I’ve killed too many people in my lifetime.”

 _Ah_.

“The Slates… the Green Sanctum was the reason he was still alive,” Misaki notes.

 

///

 

With a lot of arguments and asking of favours, Saruhiko ends up carrying out the duties of a Captain at Scepter 4. Surprisingly, his former colleagues give him a warm welcome back.

“Yata-san was too loud for anyone’s liking,” Awashima tries to explain. “He did beat up everyone from Scepter 4 at one point or another.”

“True,” he spins back around to face his deputy. “Without the Slates, without the Clans dividing people with people, we can create order, can we not?”

“Something a Captain would say,” Awashima has the thinnest possible smile on her fac.

“I say a certain barkeeper is the reason why you thawed, Awashima,” Saruhiko can’t help but tease.

“You’re lucky I cannot apprehend you,” she rebounds easily.

“Once we round up all the former Strains, we’ll just be a… police force,” Saruhiko tilts his head when the door opens.

“If you’re done with your briefing, you’re extremely late for our date, idiot monkey!” Misaki glares at him, out of his usual attire for once.

“Sorry, Captain!” Akiyama pokes his head in. “He was insistent he sees you.”

“As he proclaimed, I am late for our date,” Saruhiko clicks his tongue, discarding his uniform coat and the vest. “I take it you two will wrap it up for tonight.”

“Power abuse,” Misaki snorts, handing him headphones unceremoniously.

“… these look like monkey ears,” Saruhiko points out.

“Precisely my point,” Misaki stands on his tiptoes, palms on the cords, and guides his head down for a kiss outside the Scepter 4 building.

“Only an idiot would fall in love with an idiot like you,” Saruhiko whispers, still tasting the pineapple candy Misaki must have had before picking him up.

“You’re in love with me, last time I checked,” Misaki reminds him.

“Precisely my point.”

**Author's Note:**

> My first SaruMi hinted (shoved MikoRei domestic shizzle) here and there, and my third K verse oneshot is nearly complete, would'ja look at that?


End file.
